


A Good Spring Clean

by UnluckiestFridays



Series: The Doctor Meets the Doctor [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, House Cleaning, Humor, Multiple Doctors (Doctor Who), Sentient TARDIS, TARDIS Rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:04:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnluckiestFridays/pseuds/UnluckiestFridays
Summary: Doctors Eleven to Thirteen find themselves in Ten's TARDIS. They're appalled to see (and remember) the state it is in. They help their previous incarnation give it a good tidy up."I thought it'd be cleaner."





	A Good Spring Clean

**Author's Note:**

> I got my first tattoo today and it really hurt, but it looks good so it was worth it.
> 
> Anyway, I rewatched that episode where Wilf first enters the TARDIS and it inspired me to create this silly fic which I can add to my 'The Doctor Meets the Doctor' series.

The Doctor ran. Ran like it was his only option. Which, in all fairness, it was, really. If he stopped for even a second the seven armed, four legged alien chasing him would catch up with him and devour his brain. He couldn't remember what he'd done wrong. The only thing he could think of was when he'd briefly mentioned the fact that the rhinestones on the alien's bride's crown were cheap knockoffs. It had only been in passing and it wasn't like he was judging them for it. I mean, who would want to pay a trillion koles for some silly stones. He certainly wouldn't.

At the end of the corridor, the Doctor spotted his saviour. The TARDIS stood idly, waiting for him with her lights shining as brightly as ever. The Doctor breathed a huge sigh of relief, his hearts almost skipping a beat.

As soon as he made it to the doors, the alien a good few feet away from him, the Doctor threw himself inside his ship and slammed the doors close behind him for good measure. A huff of breath left his lips and he looked up to see the beautiful sight of hi-

Maybe not. This wasn't his TARDIS. Well, he supposed it was his TARDIS, but not in the sense he'd thought it was when he'd thrown himself inside it.

"What?" A voice exclaimed, the owner of it peeping out from the other side of the console. "Who are you? How did you get inside my TARDIS?"

"Well, that's a lot to unravel," the Doctor said.

Suddenly and without warning, the Doctor was thrown to the floor by someone else barging through the doors. They tripped over him and landed on the floor themselves, and what felt like a third person also joined them. In the end, the result was the Doctor on the floor with two other people on top of him. And they were quite heavy.

"Would you two mind getting off of me?" The Doctor grumbled, his accent thick and annoyed.

"Right, yeah, sorry," one of the people, a woman from what he guessed was somewhere Northern quickly apologised and some of the weight lifted from his back.

"Terribly sorry, didn't mean to... land on you," an awkward, familiar voice said and the final weight lifted.

Why did that voice sound so familiar? The Doctor questioned himself, still on the floor.

"Do you want a hand?" The woman asked.

The Doctor looked up into the face of a blonde woman with golden skin and laugh lines around her eyes. Her clothing was as bizarre as the situation the Doctor had found himself in.

Silently, the Doctor ignored her hand a got up himself.

"No, sorry, I'm not following this, who are all of you? And why are you in my TARDIS?"

"Well obviously we were running from the Sahole," the man said in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious from first glance.

And suddenly the Doctor remembers who the man is. He's him. The past him. The eleventh version of him, his last face.

Great, the Doctor thought with heavy sarcasm laced with annoyance, not only his Sandshoes here, but so is Bowtie. Then who is the woman?

"Oh, I remember this console room," said woman exclaims, effectively changing the subject as she rushed up to one of the coral-like pillars. "Don't remember it being this dirty, though."

"Sorry, who are you again? And 'dirty'? There's nothing wrong with my console room!" Sandshoes retorted, pushing the blonde away from the controls.

"Oh, sorry, wasn't it obvious?" Bowtie cut in, joining the other two by the controls while the Doctor stood off to the side and observed the interaction. If he could leave, he would have already, though he had no intention of his brain being eaten so he stayed put.

"No, not obvious, no," Sandshoes shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Well, we're you," Bowtie finally explained and straightened his bowtie.

"Yup, we're your future regenerations!" The woman grinned, causing the Doctor to raise an impressive eyebrow. Well, at least he now knew who she was.

"What, even him?" Sandshoes questioned, pointing at the Doctor.

"Yep, even him."

"Really?" Bowtie and Sandshoes wondered.

"Yes, really," the Doctor finally spoke and strode up to them, "now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my own TARDIS and leave this planet. So, if you wouldn't mind giving me a lift over to the other side of the palace, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"Yeah, sorry, can't do that," Sandshoes apologised, "surely you know the TARDIS hates coming too close to any past or future versions of herself."

The Doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well how else am I going to get to my TARDIS? There's a Saholian prince out there waiting to devour my brain; I have no safe path back to my ship."

"When was the last time we cleaned the TARDIS?" The blonde Doctor wondered.

"It doesn't need cleaning! There is nothing wrong with my TARDIS," Sandshoes defended his version of the ship, stepping away from the Doctor to stop the woman from trailing her index over the console.

"But look at the dust," she pointed out, lifting her finger.

"Blimey," Bowtie's eyes widened.

"The console room could really use a good spring clean, I mean look at all these clothes everywhere," Blonde commented, taking in a pile of clothes in the corner.

"Those are Donna's, blame her!" Sandshoes retorted.

"The why are they on the floor?" Bowtie asked.

"She couldn't find anything to wear, I don't know!"

"You know what," Blonde announced, "Bowtie, go grab a clothes basket, Grumpy, go find the cleaning essentials."

Bowtie hurried off to grab a clothes basket as asked while Sandshoes huffed and threw his hands in the air.

"You are not cleaning my ship!"

"I'm not taking part in this, you're the one who's bothered by the mess, not me," the Doctor grumbled.

"First of all, it's _our_ ship and I am not leaving it like this," Blonde addressed Sandshoes then turned her sights on the Doctor, "and second of all, you have nothing better to do while we wait for that Sahole to leave you alone so get moving."

The Doctor glared at his future, his thick brows drawing in and his mouth curving downwards. Blonde only stared back, unfazed. With a heavy breath through his nose, the Doctor spun on his heels and stomped off to go and find any cleaning stuff he might have on his ship.

* * *

Grumbling as much as he could on the way back to the console room just to make his point, the Doctor looked down at the basket he held in his hands. There were several different cleaning products and a packet of unopened rags which he presumed were to be used when polishing. He'd never cleaned a day in his life, though, so he wasn't sure. Well, actually, he supposed that was a lie if he counted that one time he'd vacuumed Amy and Rory's house and painted their fence. 

Did painting a fence count as cleaning? 

The Doctor entered the console room to find the sight of Eleven being bossed around my Blonde as he shoved Donna's clothes into a basket ready to be washed later. Sandshoes was following the pair around and still complain about the fact that they were cleaning his ship. 

"Oh, there you are!" Blonde exclaimed as she ran towards him. She took the basket from his hands and balanced it on the console. "Right, first of all we need to polish."

Blonde took out a can of polish and placed it on the console so she could open the bag and get a rag from it. Once that was done she placed the bag back in the basket and set to work polishing the console. 

"Well, don't just stand there," she told him when he simply lingered nearby, "why don't you give the place a sweep?" 

"I'm a Time Lord, not a maid," he told her with a frown. 

"Yeah, well so am I, but we're still capable of cleaning," she retorted and tossed a broom at him. 

"Doctor," Bowtie called, making the remaining three look up towards him in question. "Not you two, the blonde one," he clarified.

"What is it?" Blonde asked, pausing her cleaning for a moment. 

"What did you want me to do with these clothes once I've picked them up?" 

"Take them to the laundry room," Blonde told him and sprayed a bit of polish on her rag to avoid it getting in any of the smaller parts of the console. 

"What laundry room?" The other three Doctors asked at the same time. 

"What do you mean 'what laundry room'?" Blonde replied, looking up. "We have a laundry room." 

"Do we?" Sandshoes asked. 

"Where?" The Doctor inquired. 

"Down that corridor, take a left, then a right, two more lefts, and past the garden," Blonde directed after rolling her eyes.

"I always wondered what that room was," the Doctor muttered to himself. 

"Oh," Bowtie simply said then he picked up the basket full of clothes and started down the corridor, "see you in a minute then!" 

"Oi, Grumpy!" Blonde called when Bowtie vanished from view.

"What?" The Doctor replied.

"No slacking off! Get to work!" Blonde ordered, pointing at the broom in his hands.

Scowling, the Doctor got to work sweeping the floor if only to get his future self off his back. As soon as the Sahole was gone, so was he.

"Look, you really don't need to do this," Sandshoes said to Blonde, almost pleading as he followed her around the console. 

"Yes, I do, look at this place! It's proper dusty," Blonde retorted, giving the dematerialisation lever a once over. 

"It's a time machine, it doesn't matter," Sandshoes tried.

Blonde paused in her movement and turned to face him.

"Just 'cause it's a time machine, doesn't mean it doesn't need a good spring clean every now and then," she said flatly then continued polishing.

Sandshoes sighed and shared a look with the Doctor who was just as annoyed with the situation as he was. __

* * *

About an hour later and the Doctor had finished sweeping the floor, Blonde had given the entire place a good polishing and dusting, and Bowtie had washed all of the clothes he'd picked up from the floor. The console room looked brand new- or as new as it could look considering the grunge-like layout.

Blonde stood at the entrance to the TARDIS, viewing the console room with her hands on her hips.

"There, much better," she grinned.

Bowtie joined her, "better than it was, anyway."

"Much better."

The Doctor approached the console and turned the monitor to face himself. With a quick tap, the view from outside the came up on screen. The hallway the TARDIS was in was empty, no sign of the Saholian prince anywhere.

"Finally," the Doctor said to himself.

"What's that?" Sandshoes asked.

"The Saholian Prince is gone. I can leave."

"Oh yeah, the Prince left half an hour ago when I was polishing the console. Forgot to tell you," Blonde spoke up.

A heavy sigh escaped the Doctor and he turned to look at her.


End file.
